As darkness fell around them, the flaming tar balls continued to rattle the mansion, knocking out all but the strongest of windows. One especially large tar ball smashed into the side of the mansion, leaving a gaping hole in the second floor wall, straight through to Alex’s private living quarters. Rubble flew everywhere, destroying a portion of Alex’s bedroom and sending his dresser and blackboard crashing to the floor. The tar ball scorched the remains, but luck was with Artimé and it burned itself out.
Alex remained unaware. His unconscious body was focused on expelling the rest of the water he’d breathed in, and the nurses were intent on keeping their mage alive, one minute at a time.
Finally, after an agonizing hour, Alex began to groan. He rolled onto his back and coughed and choked. “My throat,” he rasped, and opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a long, confused moment, and then looked at Florence and Simber. “What happened?”
Simber filled him in.
“Is Fox all right?”
“He’s fine,” said Simber. “Kitten is fine too. She crrrawled out of yourrr pocket a little while ago.”
“What’s happening out there?” Alex sat up and wiped his face with his damp sleeve as he began remembering everything that was going on. He struggled to his feet, waving off help from the nurses. “Thank you so much,” he said to them. “But I need to get back out there.”
The nurses shrugged at each other as Alex made his way through the hospital ward, fighting off the woozy blackness that washed over him. He stumbled. Florence reached out to catch him, and he grabbed on to the doorframe to steady himself and let the light-headedness pass. “What about Ms. Octavia?” he asked when he could see again. “And Sean and the others on the ship?”
“They’re all awake and fine again,” said Florence. “But we need to strategize about what to do with them. They’re in a precarious position out there overnight.”
“We can’t leave the ship out there without anyone protecting it,” said Alex.
“True,” said Florence. “You could try transporting it to the Museum of Large.”
Alex thought about it for a moment. “No,” he said. “We may need it to be easily accessible. And there’s no guarantee on placement with the transport spell—I don’t want it to accidentally end up in the lounge, crushing everyone.”
“I’ll stay with the ship overrrnight,” said Simber. “I might not be able to attack an enemy ship prrroperrrly, but I can prrrotect one of ourrr own without messing up. I think.” The giant cat looked slightly disgusted with himself, which was rare indeed.
Alex flashed Simber a sympathetic look. “It’s clear that they’ve prepared themselves for fighting you, Simber. That’s one bad side to fighting enemies we’ve fought before—they’ve figured out how to handle you. We’ve lost the surprise factor.”
“The shine has worn off,” said Florence. “You’re a has-been. Yesterday’s news—”
“All rrright, I get it,” said Simber, glaring at Florence.
Florence held her lips taut, not quite letting them curve up into a smile, and nodded in the direction of the front door. “Let’s go,” she said. “Back to work.” The mansion shuddered as another tar ball struck.
They went outside. Simber left the other two in front of the mansion and flew out to the ship.
“Hoist me up to the roof, will you?” asked Alex. “I want to give Mr. Appleblossom a rest.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” asked Florence. “We don’t need you falling off the roof to your death. That would just be embarrassing.”
“I’m fine. Rested, even. Honest.” It wasn’t quite true, but it was close enough.
Florence gave in. She lifted Alex up onto the roof and, after a bit of coaxing on Alex’s part, helped Mr. Appleblossom down to take a break. Alex sent him to the hospital ward to get his minor burns treated, and demanded he take a nap.
“Do we know what’s going on around the island?” Alex asked Florence as she handed him a bucket of water.
“Squirrelicorn updates came in from almost all the stations. Everybody is holding up all right, just continuing to put out fires. Aaron’s group has grown a bit over the course of the day. I guess some of the Wanteds and Necessaries whose homes were getting hit by tar balls decided they ought to pitch in and help.”
“They’re probably worried they’ll get stuck back in Artimé again if the island burns down,” muttered Alex. He stopped and stood up straight, and looked down at Florence as the whole ridiculous scenario of the attack played out before them. “What are we doing, Florence? Is this how it’s going to be? Endless flaming tar balls? Isn’t there anything else we can do?”
“Not unless they come ashore. We don’t have the boats to go fight them in the water. Our one ship isn’t making a dent—and if it were, they’d surround it and capture it. It’s definitely telling that they haven’t even tried to capture it—it means they find it insignificant enough to ignore.”